A Struggle Between Souls
by Goldenberry
Summary: What if the main cast of Harry Potter was in Ancient Rome? (yes, I know it's a bit weird, but go with me here!) In chapter 7, after a really, REALLY long hiatus.. something very important to the plot happens! (am I evil or what? You'll just have to read!)
1. Unpleasant Proposals

The familiar, sharp rapping came at the door. "Lady Hermia?" called the slavewoman. "Your father summons you to the garden. There's someone he wants you to meet."  
  
Carusio Hermia sighed and put down the thick book she had been reading and straightened her toga. She didn't even look at the mirror when she walked outside. Hermia prided herself on not being that sort of girl; not like her best friend, Lena, who spent all her time trying out new hairstyles and ogling the slavemen.  
  
Hermia's father, Carusius, abided by Roman law and would not let his fifteen-year-old daughter attend school. So she snuck books out of her older brother Ambrosius' room, and read them whenever she could. Ambrosius had taught her how to read and write over the past few years; he now had graduated from the university and worked for the State.  
  
"Coming," she called, opening the door.  
  
The slavewoman, Angia, bit her lip and attempted to pat back Hermia's hair (always flying everywhere in its unruly curls), but Hermia waved her away as she rounded the corner into the garden of their country house.  
  
"Good morning, father, and-" she curtsied to the two tall blond men standing with her father, each with eyes as pale and cold as ice and surmising sneers upon their faces.  
  
"I greet you as well, my lords."  
  
"Is this the girl?" asked the older of the two men.  
  
"Yes, this is my daughter Hermia," answered Carusius wearily.  
  
The man walked over to her, and although he was a good four meters away he was suddenly sizing her up, his eyes roving over her body, lingering on her unkempt hair. "Girl," he said, totally disregarding her actual name. "I wouldn't be so." he tipped her chin up at him. ".late next time, if I were you. There are more important things than reading."  
  
Hermia glanced around anxiously the moment he dropped her chin. "I am Serpentius Lucius, and this is my son." he gestured to the other blond man, who looked to be about sixteen. ".Serpenti Drac."  
  
Draco did a slight imitation of a bow, his sneer betraying what he really thought of her.  
  
Later, in her room, Hermia mused over the encounter. There was no doubt that Lena and her other friends would find Draco handsome, with his pale gold hair and equally light eyes. She, however, found him cold and calculating and cruel, someone she wouldn't have talked to or even come near if she'd had a choice.  
  
"Hermia?" called her father's voice from outside. "Would you come here, please?"  
  
Hermia sighed yet again and put down the book she had idly been turning the pages of. "Yes, father?"  
  
"I have something to discuss with you. Would you like to walk in the garden?"  
  
Hermia nodded and smiled. Usually, her father, who was a consul for the Republic and often away on business, was otherwise preoccupied.  
  
In the courtyard, they strolled around the pool. "Hermia, you are now fifteen," her father finally said.  
  
Hermia felt her heart began to sink. If this was about marriage, then she would be forced to listen and do what he said. "Yes, father," she said noncommittally.  
  
"I think it's time to consider your future. As a member of the government in high standing, I have received a very, very good offer for your hand in marriage."  
  
Hermia stopped walking. "Who?" she said, dropping all the politeness she usually carried.  
  
Her father didn't show that he noticed. "From Serpenti Draco, the boy who came to call this morning," he said, expecting her to be happy at this prospect. When he saw she was not, he attempted to make it more appealing by adding, "His father is a very good candidate for the next emperor, should Cassius pass before his time."  
  
Hermia felt tears welling up behind her eyes. "Yes, father," she said finally, and rushed out of the courtyard.  
  
Hermia ended up sitting by the pool, crying as she watched her reflection. Why would Draconius want to marry her? She was reasonably pretty, but her hair. her boyish figure. why couldn't he pick someone beautiful, with lots of friends, who would want to marry him. like Lena? A fresh wave of sobs came at this; once she married Draco she would probably never see Lena again. or Aurelia. or Latia.  
  
Footsteps sounded along the stones that led in a path to the pool. "Are you all right, mistress Hermia?" asked the slave. His name was Christos, and he was from Britain. "No, not really," she answered, attempting to smile although she was crying.  
  
"What's wrong, then?" he persisted, sitting beside her on the rock.  
  
Hermia paused, then blurted out the whole story, occasionally stopping to choke her sobs back. ".and. and now, I have to marry him!" she finished, her head falling on to Christos' chest.  
  
Christos opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, they heard Carusius shout, "Christos! Where are you?"  
  
Hermia nodded and turned her head back to the pond as Christos got up and left.  
  
A few minutes later, Hermia was startled by footsteps from behind her, but didn't have a chance to do anything about it until she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and cold breath touch her neck, which was exposed by the elaborate bun she had pinned her hair into.  
  
"So, the little mouse loves the slave," whispered a cruel-sounding voice from behind her.  
  
Hermia searched for a quick comeback. "So, the little ferret loves the bookworm," she countered, pulling away and glaring at him. "Why do you want to marry me, of all people?"  
  
Draco laughed evilly. "Why, being as smart as you are, I thought you'd know!" His voice and expression grew more serious as he moved closer to her, bending over her menacingly. "I find you a challenge, Carusio Hermia," he said his hand hovering over the right side of her face. "A mystery. Most girls would fawn over me, hope that I'd like them, whisper about me in the privacy of their bedrooms."  
  
Hermia stared insolently at him, her expression unchanging.  
  
"But you're not most girls, are you?" he sneered quietly, his hand moving closer to her cheek.  
  
Hermia suddenly felt that she would rather die a hundred deaths than feel his frigid skin on hers. Narrowing her eyes, she spat, "No. And you can make me marry you, but I will never in a thousand years, even though I may change and grow and the world with me, I will never love you."  
  
Draco's hand moved to the base of her neck, firmly planting itself therer and choking her, cutting off her breath. "You should be careful," he said just as quietly after a long pause. "Sometimes words-" he let his hand stray to her collarbone, then removed it. "-can kill you."  
  
With that, he turned and left her standing by the water. 


	2. Hermia Uncovers a Plot

A Struggle Between Souls, Chapter 2: Rome, Continued  
by Icestar  
  
Disclaimer: (sorry I forgot this on the 1st chapter) J.K. Rowling owns all the character's bases, but I'm proud to say that I (partially) invented their names and totally thought of the plot and time thing. Other, original characters (such as Christos and Hermia's father) are mine as well.  
  
A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far: Landry Anne (I'm taking Latin too, but this is my first year- how dorky is it to be inspired by your homework?), Mjade (see below), Draco's girl, Squin (I reviewed your story too! Great job!), Epequa, Asuka, Sunrissa, and Kat. This is my first posting on ff.net and I wasn't sure how it would go over. Thanks, too, for your suggestion, Mjade- let me explain that I wasn't quite sure how to introduce Harry or Ron, yet. I mean, what was I supposed to call them? Ronus? Harrius? Well, actually, Harrius sounds okay.   
Anyways, I'm introducing them in this story as Potius and Wesellius, so keep your eyes open. Keep reviewing, but don't feel like you have too! And I LOVE suggestions, so email me or drop one in my review box, OK?  
Love from,  
icestar  
  
Also, if you haven't figured it out yet, these are the characters and their Roman counterparts:  
  
Hermia :: Hermione Granger  
Draco :: Draco Malfoy  
Lucius :: Lucius Malfoy  
Potius :: Harry Potter  
Wesellius :: Ron Weasley  
  
On with...  
  
Chapter II  
  
Draco threw open the doors to his cold, empty house by the sea. Although his family could certainly afford to keep it heated and lit day in and day out, he dismissed it as an unnecessary luxury.   
"Follow me," he snapped to the slaves behind him, each of whom bore a heavy trunk, and to his betrothed, Hermia, and her ladies-in-waiting. He led them around the inner court and baths, stopping in a large alcove that housed the master bedroom. "Leave the clothing trunks here, and take the others to the kitchen," he ordered the slaves, and when Hermia's ladies stayed where they were, he shot something extremely vulgar at them, and they scattered. Hermia herself glared sullenly at him, then turned and stared out the window.   
Another wry smile curled Draco's lips as he stared at her back- the tousled russet curls that hung down past her shoulders, her petite figure; she was short enough that he could bend at the neck and still be eight inches above her.   
"Why me?" Hermia asked for the second time. Now, though, her voice was sadder, choked with sobs.  
"I already told you-" he started, but she shook her head wildly. "No," she said, facing him. Her large, brown eyes were made even larger, magnified somehow by the tears that were pooling there. "I won't believe that you would marry a girl you just met on a lark, just because she was a 'challenge.' That's unbelievably cruel, forcing someone you probably don't even like to live with you!" She spat out the words, emphasizing challenge. Draco could see her trembling with a mixture of sadness and anger.   
"There are a lot of things about me that are unbelievable," Draco drawled, advancing on Hermia, that infuriating smirk still on his face.  
"Don't touch me," Hermia warned in a deadly whisper. "I'm not one of your simpering admirers." She had seen a group of younger girls- all fourteen, fifteen, sixteen- wave to and kiss him goodbye at his father's estate yesterday.  
Draco's mouth went into a hard line, and without any pause, he raised his hand to slap her. Hermia's evasive instincts kicked in; she ducked under his raised arm and fled from the room, disappearing before he could catch her.   
  
Hiding behind the door, two slaves the same age as Hermia had been watching. The one with bright red hair, not native to Rome, cursed under his breath. "Bastard," he added. They had seen everything: her questions and insults, his lewd answer, her chilling rebuffal, his raised hand to hit her. Then, she had rushed past, not seeing them.  
The other, whose black hair stuck up in an unruly manner, was quickly calculating. "The wedding is tomorrow," he said. "The aristocratic brat wants to make sure no one gets in the way. So we have to find her as soon as possible."  
"Ah, I can help," said the first, moving away from the door. Draco was still inside, after all. "How?" asked the second.  
"Er... I sort of, er, know one of her ladies-in-waiting," he said, dancing around the fact that he was seeing one of them.   
The black-haired one looked at his friend knowingly. "Well, can you arrange for her to meet us in the courtyard tonight? We really need to talk to her, Wesellius."  
"Yes, yes," the redhead assured him. "In the meantime, maybe you should try to find out more about the situation here, Potius."  
Potius rolled his eyes. "Fine. See you at... er... right after sunset should work."  
Wesellius nodded and dashed off to the slaves' quarters to find Athene.  
  
Hermia finally stopped running somewhere on a thin, sandy strip of shore. She was alone there; the cool, blue water of the Mediterranean lapped against the beach.   
Why did I come here? she thought to herself. Certainly not to cry; she smiled. I've certainly done enough of that since I met... him. She thought the name not with dreamy, starry-eyed desire, but with hatred and disgust. How could she possibly understand... discover what his motives were? Why, as she had asked, would he want to marry her?  
Suddenly, it hit her.  
His father.  
Hadn't Carusius said that he was next in line for the position of emperor?  
And wasn't her father one of the most influential people in that decision- the emperor's heir?  
So, she thought, suddenly understanding Draco and Lucius' thinking. If they made a partnership with Carusius- via Draco's marriage to her- then he would almost certainly choose his brother-in-law for the throne.  
She unknowingly repeated Wesellius' words. "The bastard!" she muttered, standing up. She had to get away from here before the marriage.  
  
  
A/N: Actually, that turned out better than I thought it would ! Sorry for not having a lot of romance with anyone, but I really had to sort of explain why Draco/Malfoy wants to marry Hermia/Hermione. Anyways, I hope everyone likes the new stuff I introduced! Review if you liked it, please- next chapter coming up hopefully tomorrow or the day after.  
Love,  
icestar 


	3. Escape In the Darkness

A Struggle Between Souls, Chapter Three  
  
A/N: At the same time I upload this, I'm going to modify the first two chapters- a couple of people requested that I take out the "nius" in Draco's name, so I'm going to. I think I knew somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind that it was already a Latin name, but somehow... I don't know... it just sort of slipped out when I wrote the chapters. So I'm changing it.  
Also, I don't know if it's just the different setting or whatever, but a lot of people said this story was really original. Thanks to everyone:  
Rachel Hunt (well, here it is!), Jenn (thanks... I think), Milady (Wow, is it really? *perfect christmas present for latin teacher pops into head*), Brina (thanks for the encouragement!), Sunrissa (I really don't know at this point. I think he's more of an antagonist in this story.), Lazuli (wai! thanks so much!), Aquamanda (thank you so much! I got the idea for Hermione's name from A Midsummer Night's Dream [Shakespeare's play].), Draco's girl (*bows* thank you!), Rilar Cray (thanks for the suggestion... and the compliments!), Rachel Hunt (right here!), Landry Anne (thanks! I think so too!), jessiCA (ohhh.... that's so sweet!), Allee Kat (thanks!), Xaviera Xylia (did I spell that right? thanks for the originality compliment... it means a lot to me!), Medea Malfoy (ingenious! wow!), Raven (hope I can meet your expectations), Hermia19 (latin people rule!), hermi_giggles (I hoped it would be!), Dark Unicorn (*winces* I'm sorry... i really don't know if that's the direction the story's going in. If it turns out that that might work, then maybe...), Rose Demon (wish granted!), and Chrissy (thanx!). Keep reviewing... I try to mention everyone in my author's note!  
  
Anyways, here's Chapter III!  
  
  
The sun was setting over Draco's estate, rose and gold rays reflecting in the ocean. A flaming red globe sank slowly below the horizon as the eastern sky lit up with stars.  
Hermia was waiting in the garden with Athene, not sure what to think. Her lady-in-waiting had told her that there was someone who wished to speak with her, but Hermia couldn't get her to tell who.  
At that moment, two figures burst into the courtyard, breathing heavily. "Lady... Hermia," one panted, bowing as low as he could. The other quickly followed suit.  
Hermia was dumbfounded as she signaled Athene to help her pull the two boys to their feet. "Who are you?" she asked incredulously, taking in their slave's clothing and filthy hair and faces.  
"I'm Potius," said the one who had been first to bow. "Loyal slave to... er... Cornelius Gracii." Hermia had never heard the name, even in listening to her father's boring political talk. "...and I'm Wesellius," said the other, his hair looking browner in the darkening sky. "We're here to help you escape."  
"How can you help me?" asked Hermia wearily. "You're just slaves."  
"We have our ways," said Wesellius, winking at her. "Can you gather up your things without disturbing the household?"  
"I don't have any of my possesions except a few clothes, but..." She looked at them worriedly. "What if Draco comes after me? I mean, my father doesn't know about the plot, and he won't believe me if I tell him, and then I'll just have to come back here, and I don't think I could bear to live with him. Where can I go?"  
Wesellius rubbed the back of his neck. "I think my mother will let you stay at our house," he said uncertainly. "She doesn't like the Serpentius family any more than you do. She'd understand."  
For some reason, Hermia felt like crying; she threw her arms around Wesellius' neck, grinning. "Thank you!"  
Wesellius' ears turned red, clashing horribly with his orange hair.  
  
  
The next morning, Hermia woke in a bed in a separate room; thankfully, Draco had yielded to her pleas that whatever might come of them sharing a bed could wait till tomorrow night, after the wedding. Someone was banging on her door.  
"What is it?" she said through the stonework, her voice carrying a note of impatience.  
"Lady Hermia?" said a male voice, although it wasn't Draco's. As if he'd ever call me 'lady', she thought wryly as she threw on a toga, then opened the door. Potius was standing there, looking extremely tired. No light shone through the windows.  
"Hasn't the sun risen yet?" she asked as she closed the door behind them.  
"No... we have to leave early, or else we won't get enough of a head start on Serpentius' army."  
"Army?" Hermia asked in disbelief. "He'd really send soldiers after me?"  
Potius looked at her seriously. "You have to remember, my lady, that Lucius Serpentius' ascending the throne depends on your marriage to his son. If pressed to do so, they could send much more than a few mercenaries after you... they could capture you, torture you, and still force you to marry Draco."  
"How do you know so much about this?" she asked suspiciously as they left the house, walking to where Wesellius and her ladies-in-waiting were standing.  
Potius just smiled at her and waved to Wesellius. "Are the horses ready?"  
The red-haired slave grinned and said, "They're right here."  
Hermia was surprised to see four of Draco's best bay stallions tethered to the side of the house. "You stole them!" she said, a look of wonder on her face.   
"Well, what should I have done? Told Serpentius exactly why I wanted his precious bays and then have paid a good deal more than they're worth for them?" Wesellius climbed atop the nearest one, pulling Athene up behind him.  
Hermia found no words with which to argue; she couldn't anyway, as Potius was now helping her up onto the second bay. Maia and Flavia, her third handmaiden, were sitting, looking uncomfortable, on the third horse. Potius deftly swung himself over the fourth and led them into the dark, safe refuge of the forest.  
  
At that moment, Draco Serpentius awoke in his bed, having heard the distinct clattering of horses' iron hooves on the cobblestones outside. Slaves had awoken, too; they milled around the halls, holding torches high in the air. He dressed quickly and went out into the hall. "What is going on?" he asked his manservant, Golius, who looked quite flustered.  
"The Lady, she is gone," he stuttered in his clumsy Latin.   
"How? She has no method with which to escape," Draco asked, confused.  
"There are four horses gone from the stables," answered Golius apologetically. A female slave swept up to them and bowed to Draco. "Her three ladies-in-waiting are gone as well," she informed them.  
Draco cursed and signaled Golius. "Ready my entourage, and alert my father," he said. "I'm sure he'll want to know about this."  
  
  
A/N: Okay, at first I thought I'd written myself into a corner, but then.. the light! I can't tell you what's going to happen next, but I can assure you it will involve chases, angst, hiding, cruelty, et cetera... please review! I love you all!  
~~icestar 


	4. Hoofbeats In the Forest

**Chapter IV**

**Author's Note**: Everyone, thanks so much for reviewing!  
Draco's girl (er.. thanks)  
Amara (you just did! thanks so much!)  
Aquamanda (OMG! You did? I feel like I actually touch people when I get stories like that! BTW- there are lots of story versions of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ that you can get that aren't written in boring Shakespearean English. Or, rent the movie- the one with Calista Flockhart in it is the best!)  
Allee kat (I'm glad you think so! Hope I can live up to your expectations...)  
Kat Riddle (Well, I'm glad you did!)  
Moopies (Thanks so much! I love when people tell me that I'm original... I've never done this sort of thing before...)  
Mjade (Hey, I wish so too, but it may not work out that way... I'll just have to wait and see what emerges from the depths of my crazed brain...)  
Rachel Hunt (I'm sorry again... I read a couple of your stories though, and you're a really good writer! I love getting compliments from you!)  
Janmmci (well, thanx!)  
and Hemlock (er... huh? sorry, I'm only in first year Latin, so I can't translate that well... all I know is that _fabulam_ is a direct object...).  
  
Right, now on to the actual note... I really, really don't know where this story's going at this point. I had actually thought at first that I would do a whole series of relationships and stories from HP in all different times (you know, ancient Egypt, Greek myth, medieval England, sixteenth-century France, renaissance Italy, eleventh-century Japan...the possiblities are endless!), but this is turning out to be more of an epicish story within itself. It could take forever to do that many of them, but I really like the premises, so I might anyways. *turns off babble faucet* OK, see you after this chapter!  
Love from,  
_icestar_  
  
  
  


The forest swallowed the four horses and their riders, muffling the sound of their hooves as they receded into the distance. Inside the wood it was still deathly quiet, though; faint sunlight dappled the leaf-strewn ground, filtered through the branches of ages-old trees. Hermia would have taken the opportunity to admire it had she not been terrified.  
Potius pulled his horse up alongside hers, shouting over the wind they'd kicked up. "Just follow me, and I can lead us out of the forest and to Wesellius' mother's house. She lives in Rome." Hermia nodded, swallowing the distinctly unpleasant taste she felt in her throat at the thought of their plan: she would hide out at the house of Melia, mother of Wesellius, and hope that Draco wouldn't find them.  
Serpentius Draco- the cruel young man whom she had been forced to marry, forming an alliance between the Carusius and Serpentius families. Draco's father, Lucius, evidently hoped that Hermia's father would support him when he tried to take the position of emperor- _probably after murdering poor Cassius,_ Hermia thought wryly, urging her horse on faster. _He can't have me, and his father can't have Rome._

Draco was at the moment sitting in the inner court with his father, watching the man's face closely as different emotions ran across it.  
"She escaped?" he asked finally. "How?"  
"That's what I'd like to know," answered Draco, standing up. "She- even with her handmaidens- isn't strong enough to steal four horses by herself. And where would she go, anyway? Her own father wouldn't believe her; he'd just send her straight back here."  
Lucius banged down his goblet with a sudden emotion. "Someone had to have helped her."  
Draco ran a hand through his slick blond hair, sighing. "Yes, but who?"  
Lucius swept out of the room and spoke to Golius. "Gather the rest of the horses, and send for my guards."  
Draco followed him down the hall. "Father, what are you doing?"  
His father turned around, a slightly evil glint in his grey eyes. "We're going after her."

It was around midday (the sun was directly overhead), and Hermia was growing tired and hungry. She maneuvered her horse next to Wesellius' and asked, "Did you manage to steal anything from the kitchens before we left?"  
"Sorry, no," answered Wesellius, who was looking rather peaked himself. "Wish I had, though- it'll be at least sunset before we even reach the gates of Rome, and then I'm not even counting what'll happen if Serpentius' guards hold us up, or if we get lost in the city."  
Hermia sighed. "Then, could we take a break? Just a small one, off the trail, and we'll be quiet." She looked at Potius, who had slowed to ride with them, beseechingly.  
The black-haired slave smiled reluctantly. "Fine, then, but just for a few minutes. We can't afford to lose much time."  
  
Behind a large rock by the side of the rode, the six travellers had settled themselves out on the ground. Maia and Flavia were seated on a ledge that was carved into the rock; Wesellius and Athene were sitting against a large and gnarled tree; and Hermia was sitting atop the rock, chatting gaily with Potius.   
"So, you just hate Serpentius for no reason at all?" she asked him, raising an amused eyebrow.  
"Only if you don't call forcing beautiful girls to marry you a reason," he answered just as amusedly.  
Hermia felt her throat tighten and laughed forcedly. Did he just call her _beautiful_? Carusio Hermia had been called many things in her fifteen years- mousy, bookish, introvert, strange -but never 'beautiful.' Even someone who forced her to marry him didn't like her; he just thought she was a 'challenge.'  
  
Unfortunately, at that moment both Lucius and Draco were charging down the narrow, quiet forest trail, a group of armed guards riding behind them.  
"Hermia, get down," hissed Potius, jumping from his perch on top of the rock and crawling into the niche with Maia and Flavia. Wesellius and Athene ducked behind the tree they had been resting against. Hermia's heart beat faster and louder; she felt as though she was going to swallow it when the hoofbeats slowed, coming to a complete stop beside the rocks.  
  
  
**A/N**: I'm so sorry! It's another cliffhanger... --;; I just can't seem to get to what actually happens. Oh, well, maybe I can get some more reviews now ^-^  
By the way, I wrote another story called _Shaelune_ for all the real D/H lovers out there, since this story won't seem to let them get together. It has 4 chapters and only 17 reviews, so please go read it if you want *grins sadly* Please? I think it's actually pretty good, but no one else seems to. So please read it and review it or do the same for this one!   
  
Vale! (that's latin for goodbye)  
~_icestar_


	5. Tears, Thoughts, and Stars

**Chapter V: Nonstop Until I'm Dead**   
  
**A/N:** Oh god, the last chapter (even though, looking back, it was really really short) got a bigger review than, like, all the others! And I got about fifteen reviews on _Shaelune_, which I recommended in the last author's note... p.s.- I still do! Please please pleasey read it, if you like this one, which a lot of you (inexplicably) seem to. Okay, plus the fact that the story's really getting going now... I actually didn't intend this to be a chapter story at all, maybe a little shortfic or something, but I guess it sort of got longer. By the way, I'm getting a lot of reviews saying that they want Hermia and Draco to fall in love. Don't worry- that **is** what I was planning to do, and still is. But you have to realize that when I write chapter stories, sometimes only certain plot things will work. With the whole forced-marriage/evil-plot thing, a D/H romance _may_ not fit in! I'm sorry. I do really love that couple though, and *grins cheesily* if you're looking for a story that definitely wil have that in it, read my other story, _Shaelune_ (just click on my name at the top of this page and click on it in the story list). Okay... (btw: I can't note you in the author's note if you don't leave a name when you review, so be sure to, ok?)  
**Milady**: Yeah, I'll try not to make this one a cliffhanger...  
**Darkangel009988**: :( really? Maybe I should change my summary, if it sounds that bad... ship-wise, I'm *hoping* (see above droning) for a D/H, but it may be H/no one or H/H.  
**Landry Anne**: Oh, definitely! >:D   
**Chrissy**: Oh, that's so sweet of you (not the "meany" part, the part about reading Shaelune again). BTW- I promise that I WILL update that story soon. Just not right this second.  
**Dark**- Hey, you got it right! Thanks!  
**Rowan Sage**: Like Dark said, it's _salve_, which means "greetings" or "hello" in Latin. And that makes two of us (loving Ancient Rome) ^_^  
**Bell**- Oh, thanks! Here you go...  
**Rachel Hunt**- Oh. My. God. You are the best reviewer! I mean, it really makes us lowly little authors feel great when the reviewers actually _quote lines from the fic_! Thanks for the Molly-name thing... I was kinda confused, actually... *reads review over and almost cries for joy* I think discombulated actually IS a real word, so I agree with your teacher I guess.... and I totally, totally agree with all the stuff about Draco in different *preferably skimpy* clothes... or perhaps Sean Biggerstaff... anyways....  
**Epequa**: Thanks so much :D I hope it will!  
**Venus Saturnalia**: Yeah, we just finished doing personification essays in my English class too. I was a whale *pouts*  
**Crystal**: I can try!  
**Roxanne**: I hope so, too- I SWEAR I am trying as hard as possible to make them get together! *pokes draco and hermione towards each other with long, sharp sticks*  
**Sanna**: *starts to cry* I'm sorry! I can try, that's all I can promise, but I'll change the category if it doesn't work out that way. Sorry! *wails apologetically*  
**Hermione Potter**: I'll try not to this time!  
**Ankle**: *angry now* Hey! Who says? As long as they're the two main characters, isn't it (technically)? And they could get together! You never know! (Only I do! Heeheehee!)  
  
Oh gods this is a long author's note... okay, on with the fic! Chapter 5!   
  
  
  
Hermia's heart froze in her chest, and she couldn't breathe. Everything was silent, except the sound of Lucius' soldiers dismounting; Hermia suddenly realized that it was selfish of her to make her handmaidens suffer for her. In a burst of rather stupid bravery, she yanked Maia and Flavia to their feet and pushed them. "Go! Run as fast as possible," she told them, shooing them into the thick tangle of trees beside the path. Wesellius got up and told Athene to go with them, but when Hermia asked him to, he refused. "We're not going to just abandon you," said Potius; they stood behind her as Draco and Lucius appeared, riding atop their horses.  
  
"You can't escape, my lady," Draco said smugly, his voice dripping with disdain.  
"Watch me," hissed Hermia under her breath. But Lucius and Draco had turned their attention to Wesellius and Potius, who each had a hand on her shoulder. "Who are you?" Lucius spat, looking at their tattered clothing. "Slaves?"  
"N-" Wesellius started, but Potius elbowed him in the abdomen. "Something like that, Serpentius," he answered defiantly, glaring at the older man.  
Draco turned back to Hermia and his hand snaked out, snapping around her wrist. "It will be less painful if you come willingly," he said, his grip tightening as he led her to the horse.  
Hermia twisted her arm and wrenched herself out of his grasp, holding it stiffly at her side as though it had been paralyzed. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she said, stepping backward as Lucius' guards walked up to her sides, prepared to take her by force. "I won't be your little pawn! You can't make me marry you-" "Oh really?" interrupted Draco, a smirk in his tone. "Yes, really!" Hermia shot back, eyes ablaze. "And..." she looked at her wrist, where darkish bruises were appearing, and grimaced. "....if anyone with the name of Serpentius ever-" she snapped her head up, and shook off the hands of Potius and Wesellius. "-_ever_ touches me again, I swear that I will vomit nonstop until I'm dead. And then where will your stupid little plan to be emperor be, Lucius?" Hermia had never stood up in public to armed men before, and was now trembling with a combination of fear and emotion. "Stay _away_ from me!" And she was off, running through the forest, darting between the trees.  
  
After the two slaves ran after her, Draco, Lucius, and the guards were left alone in the clearing. "Feisty little bitch, isn't she?" Lucius observed with a half-smile, eyebrows raised, though under his usual sneering tone was a layer of unexpressed anger that shone through in patches. Draco was silent, his mind a turmoil of thoughts.  
_What just happened?  
Oh, my god. She ran away. We were here, we had horses, for Christ's sake, we had _weapons_, and she got away. How daft are you, Draco? When so much is resting on you having her... your father's emperorship, your safety-_ he recalled the last time he hadn't performed Lucius' requests fully, and winced-_ her safety..._ Draco closed his eyes as he mounted his horse, realizing that he couldn't bear to think about what would happen to her, should she lose her way... a mental image of Hermia, her clothing dirty, her hair tangled and dull, her body broken, sprang to his mind, and he vowed to himself that this time, he wouldn't let her go.  
  
Hermia leapt over roots, darted around wide trees, skidded in the soil and leaves that carpeted the forest. But she was not used to daily exercise, save for walking in the courtyard; her lungs soon burned, and she had to stop to catch her breath. When the sound of the leaves crunching underfoot was gone, she could faintly hear Wesellius and Potius in the distance, their footsteps light, their calls seemingly quiet. Shaking her head, Hermia resolved to go on; she had been so selfish, dragging two totally innocent people into this- _and Maia, and Flavia, and Athene_- she realized, amazed at her own stupidity. She could breathe properly now, and took up running again, this time at a slower pace.  
  
After a while, Hermia stopped again; she adopted this pattern, and before she knew it, the sky had begun to darken, and fade from its original clear, pale blue to the deeper midnight blue of twilight. Stars twinkled hazily at her as the moon rose above the horizon, but Hermia pressed on, still running through the woods. She'd noticed awhile ago that she could no longer hear Potius and Wesellius pursuing her; this meant that they'd either given up, or had... well, there was no other choice. They'd stopped.  
Hermia wouldn't admit to herself that the reason her cheeks were wet with the saltwater of tears was that she'd never been alone- totally- before. There was Ambrosius first- until she was thirteen- and after that there'd been Christos, the kind slave who'd comforted her whenever something was wrong. And even when there wasn't a caregiver figure in her life, she'd always had her handmaidens and friends. Now, none of them were there... it was just Hermia, all alone in a huge forest.   
She had been looking up at the sky as she ran, the tears flying down her face and into the air behind her; she never realized the danger until she tripped over a hole, hidden below the leaf-litter on the ground. She felt a wrench of pain as she flailed wildy, her hands groping for a hold. Then Hermia was lying in the dirt, her leg twisted painfully beneath her; the last thing she knew was the distinctly earthy scent of the air closer to the ground, and then...  
....nothing.  
  
  
  
**A/N**: Okay, everyone: _I'm not posting the next chapter, which I have mostly written, until I get at least 15 reviews on this one. _OK? Ok! 


	6. Waking in Sunlight

**Chapter 6**  
  
**A/N**: I'm really really sorry! I had this chapter written and everything, but I sort of... *mumbles* got grounded from the computer so I couldn't post it... sorry sorry sorry! Anyway, I don't think I'll make you guys review next time, even though I did get almost 30 (yay!), because the forced reviews tend to be more generic- you know "good story! write more!" or "oh, a cliffhanger! write the next chapter!" Not that I don't love those, but it's cooler when I know you liked the story enough to leave maybe a personal or at least unique review.  
Okay, I absolutely MUST address this. Just because a story is under Draco/Hermione in the characters section _does not mean that they are in love in it_. It means that they are the main characters, and they are. Plus, are some of you such pigs that you only consider a story good if there's serious making out and possibly some sex in the first three chapters? Gods! I'm trying to set up a PLOT here. There _will_ be romance, and I am almost totally sure it _will_ be D/Hr, but pleeease be patient! And for those of you *cough cough _Joycie Lionheart_* who don't like the story, just don't review! Or, don't read it! (if there's something _particular_- like a name or a setting or dialogue- that you have a suggestion for, then by all means make it.) I mean, no one's _forcing_ you. There is such thing as a story without immediate romance; this is one of them.  
  
**Dark**: I don't know, it's a mystery :D (ever seen _Shakespeare in Love_?)  
**Logana**: Actually, my Latin textbook helped a lot. ;) And you have to realize that up until that chapter and a little bit of chapter 4, everything was pretty much from Hermia's point of view; this is finally getting into Draco's thoughts, and he's more concerned with his political safety, which she is a neccessary part of. Although there may be some *ahem* other thoughts in there too...  
**Pluto_lass**: :D Your wish is my command!  
**Yolei**: Actually, I didn't really mean to... when you have a chapter story it's kind of hard to avoid.  
**Lin**: _Thank_ you! You don't know how much that means to me for someone to realize it's not all about romance in these things. I'm flattered that this was the first story you reviewed *blushes*  
**Rachel Hunt**: *jumps up and down* thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks! You're so nice! And I'm sorry about the forced-review thing. I just thought I'd try it... you know, variety... I love all your little quotes and specific compliments! And thanks for defending me!  
  
Okay, I wish I could acknowledge everyone else, but I'm only going to be allowed to be online for like 20 more minutes, so I have to go ahead and write the story now.  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco had convinced Lucius to go back to his estate and continue on the emperorship planning; he was now riding through the woods, searching after Hermia. They'd set the slaves free- after all, it wasn't as though they could do anything about the situation.  
Stars had just begun to wink in the heavens when Draco, having followed the trail of shoved-aside leaves that the girl had made, came to a place where the soil had been dug into deeply and irregularly. A deep hole was in the path, probably made by some sort of rodent, and there she was- lying on the ground, showing no signs of life.  
Much against his will, Draco felt his stomach wrench unpleasantly. If she was dead- then, well, first off, he'd probably be locked in a dungeon or put under some such barbarian punishment by his father, who'd be steaming at the ears. "God forbid that I'd have to marry some other senator's daughter," he muttered as he bent down to her body, realizing that her leg was most likely broken from the limp way it dangled into the hole.   
Draco very carefully rolled Hermia over and slowly lifted her up, his arms on her back and shoulders and a hand supporting the broken leg. She made a little whimpering sound- like Draco's favorite hunting dog had when he was a puppy- and he breathed a sigh of relief; at least she wasn't dead.   
Finally draping her over the latter half of his horse, Draco realized that she would almost certainly be awoken by the uncomfortable galloping of the stallion, and that her leg would be in excruciating pain. So he bent down and reluctantly tore off a strip of linen from the bottom of his toga, awkwardly wrapping it and a long, flattened piece of wood (off the forest floor) around her leg to serve as a sort of splint. Then, mounting his horse and turning, he rode back to the house by the ocean, hoping that he'd never have to show this sort of compassion again.  
  
  
Hermia awoke in a large, soft bed in an immense bedroom (at least compare to the small, rather conservative room she'd had at home). Sunlight spilled virtually unfiltered through a window by the bed, casting a golden glow over the stone walls. Hermia was free to enjoy the beauty and calm of the setting for a split second until, simultaneously, she realized where she was- _Oh, god! Draco's bedroom!_- and hot pain shot through her right leg. Keeping her mouth shut, she tried not to moan as the wave of feeling subsided, leaving an aching residue in her veins.  
At that moment, Draco burst in, looking just as evil as he had when she last saw him. "What am I _doing_ here?" she immediately spat, gazing around at the setting now that she was fully awake.  
He smirked. "Well, my beloved-" (Hermia's expression became a shocked grimace) "- I found you almost dead in the middle of a forest. I wonder how a perfect little aristocrat like you got there?"  
"You know exactly how I got there- running away from you and your disgusting father!" Hermia retaliated, biting her lip as she tried to ignore a second wave of pain.  
In a flash, Draco was across the room, standing above her and shaking with anger. "Look at yourself, you ungrateful little wretch. Lying in my bed, taking advantage of my hospitality, only _alive_ because I happened to be stupid enough to go after you, and you sit there and insult me!"  
Hermia froze as she took this all in, then said quietly, "Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I don't want to be your wife? That I don't want to be forced to live until I die with someone I hate?"  
"Of course it did," Draco sneered, his arms folded. "You know, this isn't really my fault either. You have no idea how much power my father has over me- he could tell me to kill myself and I'd have to."  
"Why?" gasped Hermia, stricken.  
He glanced at her. "It'd either be that or getting killed by him. Either way, I end up dead. Unpleasant, isn't it?"  
"So why don't you just run away?"  
"It didn't work very well for you, did it?" he asked her, poking her leg through the blankets and watching as she winced.  
"Well, no, but then again, I was on foot, and you have horses."  
"Believe me, you don't want to know what my father will do to you if you do end up escaping- again- and he catches you." His smirk faltered slightly as that mental image, having come true last night, flashed stronger in his mind- Hermia, long, bleeding whip-marks down her back, unconscious... dead?  
  
  
  
**A/N**: I know it's short, yes, and I'm sorry, so sorry, but as I told you I don't have much time to write today. So I will be back with more, but hopefully this will feed your writing hunger until Monday or so!  
Videt tu... er... Mondaius? (see you... um... Monday)  
~icestar 


	7. White Flowers by Moonlight

Hermia breathed deeply as she let Rosa and the other handmaidens she'd brought with her fuss over her long, white robe. Trimmed in gold, the pleated linen fabric was one of the most beautiful outfits Hermia had ever owned; although her father had the money to furnish a lavish wardrobe for her, she had never had much of a leaning toward that sort of thing. 

Rosa's deft hands moved from the hem of her dress to arranging her hair, which had been teased carefully into loose corkscrews earlier that morning. The maidservants, in their stilted Latin, had described it as being like a halo of copper (Hermia had snorted in scorn). Rosa smoothed it over with a bit of wax,as the maidservant Maria set to work on lining her eyes, which had rolled at the mention of cosmetics earlier, with kohl. Rosa then pulled back the front of her hair and pinned it with ivories, and finally attached the long trains of fine-knit white cloth to them.

Maria brushed her cheeks once more, reddening them, and curtsied before Hermia. "You-you look like an _angel_, my lady. I wish you much happiness."

Hermia nodded and shooed her away, thanking Rosa and doing the same with all the handmaidens until she was left alone. A silver pane that served as a looking-glass hung on the stone wall in front of her, showing a demure-looking figure wrapped in white draping below the neck, with more falling around a bright crown of pearls and amber that lay around her face. Their was a thick mar in the mirror where that face should have been; Hermia could not see the thick, false shadows that lay about her eyes, or the rouge that dotted her lips and cheeks.

__

That's what I am, she thought, sighing. _Beautiful but faceless_.

The past few weeks, in which her leg had healed (it had turned out to be only a sprain) had left Hermia empty of most of her free will. Constant insulting and, rarely, threats of isolation by Draco had quickly taught her that it was better to not voice her murderous thoughts. Now, on her wedding morning, she felt no emotion whatsoever towards him: all anger had been buried deep beneath the surface, her grief had been subdued, hope of rescue by Potius and Wesellius had been abandoned. Even the happiness that Draco wanted her to portray at the ceremony felt false and rather pasty, much like the makeup that had been caked onto her usually suntanned cheeks, hiding- what had Rosa called it? Oh, yes, the servant's skin.' Hermia snorted for the millionth time that day.

__

And what's to happen now? Their carriage had taken Draco and his family to Rome the day before; Hermia and her entourage were set to depart in a matter of moments. The wedding would take place that night, at a large open garden in one of the more suburban areas of Rome. Her father and brother would be in attendance, as well as many of her childhood friends. So Hermia had resolved to herself that she would smile, say I do, greet hundreds of people warmly at the celebration afterwards. She would be the perfect wife.

At least, for the wedding.

**

Draco smoothed over his pale blond hair one last time as he paced around the pavilion that had been set up in the garden for the preparations. His father was at a final meeting with his future father-in-law; both mothers were roaming about the main garden area, ordering around slaves and slavewomen, placing flowers and pottery. Rows of benches, festooned with leafy garlands, had been placed in rows facing the simply white-draped altar. A single white bloom, spectacular, wide, and dewy, plucked from the garden of the Serpenti townhouse, floated in a small golden bowl in the center of the table.

He sighed and sat again, trying to calm down. _This really shouldn't be that hard,_ he admonished himself; after all, he hated the girl. It would be rather nice to have a new flavor, though; at his father's bidding, he'd had a period of what his mother called cleanliness' since he had become engaged. Draco had found he missed the feeling of the warm body of Rosa or Lacrimosa beside him each morning.

Then he laughed, realizing that Hermia would probably make a rather enjoyable partner. She was so chaste, so innocent, so maidenly he wondered if she had ever been compromised by, what was his name, Christos. The boy had looked a bit thick to him, but, of course, he thought everyone was dull in comparison to himself.

**

The train of carriages sailed down the cobbled roadway, the windows curtained in white and their backs loaded with Hermia's trousseau. They stopped at the end of the street, before the set of torches that lit the entryway between two tall hedges into the garden. Hermia's mother, Flavia, waited at one side; Draco's mother, Narcissa, stood on the other. They both wore plain white gowns, and flowers in their hair, which on the parts of both was twisted up into a bun.

The drape that served as the door to the carriage was pulled open by Rosa, and Hermia dismounted. Her veil had been draped over her face, giving her the appearance of a mysterious yet blushing and innocent bride. Behind her carriage, one of Draco's sisters whom she'd chosen to be her bridesmaid- Lucia Tertia- and Aurelia, Lena, and Latia, her childhood friends who'd joined them when they'd entered the city. All wore simple headdresses of pearls interwoven with small white wildflowers, pinned from ear to ear, and their hair long. They each greeted the two mothers in turn; Hermia embraced hers, and felt tears come to her eyes (Rosa warned her not to cry, for her kohl would streak down her face, making it look as though she'd been weeping black paint). 

Here, Cassius arrived, kissing his daughter on both cheeks and hugging her tightly. 

"Oh, Hermia, my dearest daughter," he began, while wiping his eyes. "You know that this makes me happier than anything on earth. I always knew you would bring prestige and honor to our family."

Hermia sighed. _There went my last shred of resignation,_ she thought reluctantly. Her father had unknowingly placed a huge responsibility on her shoulders. There was no way she could back out of this now. 

Hermia hooked arms with her father, waved off Rosa, and inhaled deeply. The entourage lined up in front of and behind her- the mothers stood together at the head, followed by Hermia and Cassius. The bridesmaids- Lena, Latia, Aurelia, and Cornelia- came behind them, each holding a small gathering of white flowers. Hermia herself carried no flowers, but left that to Draco's youngest sister, Theodosia, who came at the very front, mainly looking adorable and sometimes tossing white flower petals into the air.

A lute tune, haunting and melodic, wafted on the spring breeze from somewhere ahead in the torchlit maze-garden, and Theodosia skipped forward. Hermia forced her feet to move, and somehow she found herself entering the main garden; it was brightly lit by a combination of a dozen torches and bright, unfiltered moon- and starlight overhead. 

__

May it be

An evening star

Shines down upon you

May it be

When darkness falls

Your heart will be true

Still, the figures at the altar were shadowed with the contrast. Row upon row of people Hermia didn't know, all with dressed hair and pretty robes, lined the garden. The pathway for the bridal party was cleared, and the mothers and Theodosia hurried up the aisle to the altar.

Hermia bit her lip beneath her veil and gripped her father's arm more tightly as they began to move again. They were passing the people, who whispered and laughed and applauded appreciatively, but Hermia heard none of this. Her ears were blocked; her eyes could focus on nothing but her destination. Now she could make out Lucius' hair, more silver than blonde, and Draco's paler color; Theodosia, Flavia, and Narcissa's white gowns were easily visible. Between them stood a balding elderly man, robed in ivory, whose dark eyes were clouded with age.

__

You walk

A lonely road

Oh, how far you are from home

Now she was almost there, sweeping past the last torches, climbing the short flight of steps to the platform. Letting go of the gown she had lifted to take the stairs and folding over her veil the way Rosa had shown her, she detached herself from her father and turned to face Draco.

__

Mornie utulie

Believe and you will find your way

Mornie alantie

A promise lives within you now

Draco had watched, mesmerized, as the girl in white trailed down the aisle, then ascended the steps. Although he had known her identity somewhere in his subconscious, when she lifted her veil, he could not believe that this goddess-like creature was the same person as his shrewish, unwilling fiancee, who spent all her time either moaning about home, reading books, or insulting him. Her skin shimmered in the moonlight; her hair reflected the torchlight in its russet curls; her expression was unreadable. She seemed to be wavering between a glare and an excited smile.

Hermia tried to keep her lips neutral; she had a tendency to write what she was thinking all over her face. The officiant began to read the vows, but she paid very little attention, as Draco had found her hands, cold and numb, and was taking them in his. All she knew was that the proceedings had, well, proceeded without difficulty until the priest got to the part about whether anyone objected. 

Two hedges pushed apart in the center, revealing two very scruffy, tired-looking boys. Potius and Wesellius stood there, not even bothering to brush themselves off; Potius manage to gasp out that they did. 

The priest looked rather indignant. "On what counts?"

Wesellius looked up and moved closer to the stand, glaring at Draco. "He-"

Hermia knew what she had to do. Extracting her hands from his, she lightly ran down the steps and placed a hand against Wesellius' lips. "This man has nothing to say," she told the priest, but keeping her eyes fixed on his.

__

May it be

The shadow's call

Will fly away

"What?" asked Potius, stepping forward.

"I _said_," Hermia continued, her eyes still not leaving Wesellius'. "That their reason is no longer valid." 

Wesellius took hold of her wrist and yanked her hand away from his mouth. "What are you talking about, Lady Hermia? You don't _love_ him!" He pointed a firm finger at Draco, his eyebrows lowering violently. 

Hermia glanced at Draco, looking desperate. "Wesellius, Potius, I don't _need_ your help. I thank you kindly for your offers, but I know my path."

__

May it be your journey on

To light the day

When the night is overcome

Potius' face took on a very different expression, one of understanding and disappointment. It tore a bit at Hermia's heart. "Wesellius, come on," he told his friend, imitating Hermia in that, though he was not speaking to her, his eyes did not leave her face.

Wesellius was frozen silent. Hermia glanced at Draco again, this time warningly; then she tilted her face upward and kissed Wesellius. She pulled away quickly and whispered something unintelligible in his ear. He nodded slowly and followed Potius through the hole they'd made in the hedge.

Hermia felt rather empty inside.How was she to know that she had done the right thing? _Is this what I want?_ she asked herself as she repositioned herself at the altar. She knew the answer. It wasn't what she wanted; it was what her mother, her father wanted, and Hermia also knew that she could never let them down. This was a sacrifice, indeed; the question was, was it a sacrifice she was prepared to make?

__

You may rise to find the sun

Mornie utulie

Believe and you will find your way

Mornie alantie

The priest had begun to read the vows once again. Neither Draco nor Hermia had prepared endearing speeches; Lucius simply motioned for him to continue with the ceremony. So they came at last to the questioning.

"Serpentius Draco, do you take this woman to be yours, a mother to your children, a head to your household, a light to your life?"

Draco's old smirk returned in full force, darkening his face and words as he answered. "Aye, I do."

"And Cassius Hermia?" The officiant did not bother to finish the question.

Hermia tilted her face fully upward and looked Draco directly in his silver, catlike eyes. "Aye, I do."

They were the hardest three words she had ever had to say.

__

A promise lives within you now

A promise lives within you now

__ ****

A/N: So, how do you like it? Sorry for the long wait on the update (wow! 4 months!), but I had a) serious writer's block, b) no time to write, though I did have a ton of ideas, and c) some trouble with storylines and plots. It took me a while to decide on the outline for this chapter, but once I did, I wrote it in about two hours! Yeah! Go me! (well, it was kinda short sorry, it's chronic)

Anyways, if you're happy that I updated, you have the one and only Rachel Hunt to thank (look her up; her stories are quite good). She inspired me and got me going on this chapter, so thank you! Yay for Rachel!

This is probably the last chapter, but if you want me to add an epilogue of any sort, _tell me in a review_ and I'll get right on it! I think I resolved it pretty nicely, though I'll probably get some crap for making Hermione end up marrying Draco, and having her kiss Ron at the wedding yeah, well also, I'm not exactly an expert on ancient Roman wedding ceremonies, but I'm setting this after Rome's conversion to Christianity. I still don't know much about what marriage rituals were like, though, so please don't flame me for the technicalities on that. I apologize humbly.

The song used is May It Be,' by Enya, which is from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack and, I thought, fits perfectly with this chapter. And you know those words- mornie utulie, mornie alantie? They mean darkness has come, darkness has fallen.' Just so you know.

Also, since I want to get this up ASAP and answering reviews in the chapter takes forEVER, here's the deal: 

To add an epilogue, I'm going to need at least 10 reviews telling me to. If you guys do this for me, I'll write and post the epilogue, with review answers included, as soon as I can. 

Got it? Well, get reviewing! Love you ALL!

~Goldenberry~

starice@hotmail.com

P.S. Congratulations to Rachel Hunt, again, on being my 100th reviewer! Go her! Let's see, it's at 116 reviews now ** calculates ** 116 divided by 6 WOW! That's like 20 reviews per chapter! Did I mention that I love you guys SO MUCH? Also, if you review, I will most likely read and review your fic, so


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